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Kellin May 31
Thin skinned
Like I grew up in a childhood to recover from
Christ the savior
pinned against white walls
and if you're not careful they'll nail you up there too
Kellin May 31
She told me
that the air tastes of
nostalgia and arsenic
nim Apr 22
cigarette ashes
fly on the wind,
as i stare at my black coffee,
it gazes back at me.
black sobranie,
and i debate;
of all the people,
i find it hard to see
is there something
worth seeking.
just like dust,
i let them go
i never looked back
let them think i'm bore.
you may be
a world unseen,
yet i am so tired
no words flow well enough.
i'll just go lose myself
in paint and doubt
while i stare at my coffee,
and flit around.
Two lovebirds snuggle
in the shade of a weeping willow,
oblivious to chastising honks
of Canadian geese.

Blushing buds begin to bloom,
swollen with anticipation
as the solstice draws near
and blood boils beneath the skin.

Weathered voyeurs train watchful eyes
on the short-lived marriage of the flesh,
scoffing at the consummation of seasons,
knowing the fickle nature of the sun.

When the geese fly south, so will he.
it took me so many years to see it
the beauty of our flyover states

the grace of the dried grass
as it dances to melodious windsong

earthy golden arms contrasting
otherworldly clear blue expanse

authentic to its own ruggedness
and standing tall in isolation

to be rooted in these dakota plains
is to know a steadfast dedication

the understanding that the richest harvest
can come even after the harshest winter

the stillness to be found
in the peace of the prairie

the kind of beauty
that doesn't boast or beg

but offers sweet simplicity
and careful complexity

never more
never less
𝐀𝖓𝖓𝖆 Oct 2020
Every other place is autumn,
But here, it's spring
And it feels just like winter,
I wish I could wake up in summer.
Armand-DeamoJC Sep 2020
I wish I were richer
I wish I were smarter
Or in a better political situation
Send help
Please Send Help
South Africa is falling
The government cannot protect us
The government is too corrupt
The government keep making mistakes
Political parties in the country are killing farmers
Caucasian Farmers
Political parties in the country are promoting ****** of Caucasian men, woman and children.
Black Lives matter
What about the rest of us?
Don't we all belong as equals?
Send Help
Please Send Help
South Africa is falling
They're burning our buildings
They're burning the country
Our government prioritises money
Over the welfare of our people
One president to steal money and another to come
Send Help
Please Send Help
South Africa
Is Falling
Women are being *****. Children are being *****. Men are being murdered. The people of this country are going to begin an uprising. Send Help
Dante Rocío Aug 2020
Que se lo cruza, que se lo llama,
del mar que viene pero él
que se queda,
y forma todas las playas
de verdades, turbulencias,
¡que sólo los barcos de dignidad
alcáncenlo, ellas!

Yes, surely I am deplored by
the beauty of destructions’ marking, holding dear
what’s longingly perverted
through the lost.
Ravens’ repulsing cries
are the needed on the shores,
not just on the autumn,
the rotting of the sea tales
their voices hold,
the selection of exquisite
that my preference twisted wants.
And so much else I daze over,
that overlay of the Emerald Land’s
waves and beats that
my distant to the south shore pleads,
that jade,
that shock,
that valiancy of the Scots
which in our sands
and crashing skies
should be,
to be.

The awaiting
for that dripping glory
in a mellowed casing of a wrecking ship,
it’s in a waiting room
made from a lone standing rock
that carries myths and ventures
to fulfill,
the Young Verter’s

Show up on our silver days
at the bays,
El Acantilado,
del Norte, caro,
The Cliff, The Cliff,
Ese Acantilado!
Presenting the longing yet sensing a fulfilment
At a sanded scorched but finally in the mist beach
Where I started calling for the British shores
To come to us,
To fill the southern water lands
With a valiant storytelling, storms and grandiosity
Ours seem to have not in calm relax.
Envisioning it.
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2020

As the pace of life slows
To protect my health
I sit here reflecting
For I can’t do much else

The global situation
On all our minds
Surreal as it is
The Earth is doing fine

I sit here listening
To the sounds of Soweto
Wondering if there’s anyone else
Like me.... locked down in Soweto

Luck it may have been
I consider myself lucky still
I wouldn’t want to be stuck anywhere else
What a story I now have to tell

There is hardship and struggle
Even for us every day
Yet there is also love... beauty...
Something so special to be here to “stay”

I’m no tourist
But still I feel unique
I wonder... is there anyone else?
Anyone else like me?

I feel I belong
I always have
But now this feelings deeper
I forget I’m not local infact!

It’s only when I sit here
And think, everything still
That I remember I’m different
Yet I’m treated like a local

I have become a Sowetan
And it didn’t start this year
It’s been happening slowly
The township adopted me, year after year

People are varied
Some are illegal
Yet, as written in the constitution
This country belongs to all

I love South Africa
But not all of it’s the same
It’s here in Soweto
Here - I got a new name

I don’t feel any different
To others around me
I have become one of them
But still wonder..... is there anyone else like me?

Getting stuck here was a blessing
How things fall into place!
Although no one anticipated COVID
Being in Soweto puts a smile on my face

I feel it’s almost sacred
To find myself here
During this global pandemic
I’ve been “protected “ it’s clear

I’m here for a reason
That has been proven to me
And whatever the reason
... it was just meant to be

I “belong “ here in Soweto
There IS no one like me
I am now a Sowetan
...just as it was “meant to be”

Ngiyabonga beautiful people **
Forgive me I’m new **
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